


Play Another

by SunbunSky



Series: We are the music makers [2]
Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Childhood Friends, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunbunSky/pseuds/SunbunSky
Summary: Defeat tastes bitter in his mouth and against his reed.





	Play Another

**Author's Note:**

> I tagged blaster blade, but it's technically an instrument in this story, so? Uh anyway, that's all I wanted to say, good luck.

He remembers the small figure of the other boy in the hallway.

The storm is loud in his memory, thunder booming and wrecking his already frazzled nerves. It’s too cold. He grips his instrument, listening to the pitter patter pitter patter of the rain as it pelts onto the roof and against the windows. The black wood is cool to touch, the silver keys even colder, and he already knows that tuning is a lost cause.

He sits against the lockers, sheets of music spread across the tiled floor. At first he tries to finger through the parts, but the sound of others playing through the walls is distracting, and he listens to them instead.

Defeat tastes bitter in his mouth and against his reed.

The music is too confusing, notes blending together on the page with eighth notes connected to sixteenth notes and accidentals that require his fingerings to switch between pinkies. He has practiced this section for a week, but his fingers are still clumsy and unrefined, his tongue unable to articulate the staccatos and accents in the tempo of allegro. It sounds like mush.

Musicality is a lost cause. Dynamics, shaping, phrasing, all gone in favor of just getting the notes right, why can’t he get the notes right, everyone else can get the basic techniques down so _why can’t he even play what’s written on the page_ –  

Another person exits the room. They walk over to their friends, laughing as they complain about the one mistake they made. Something minor, not getting as soft as they could at the fortepiano. They only reached a mezzo-piano. If the judges feel lenient, maybe they’ll interpret it as a slightly louder piano.

He never plays the fortepiano. He trips over the C to the E-flat before it too often to even consider adding that extra element.

(And the squeaking. He doesn’t know how to get rid of it, the shrill sound that forces itself into the middle of bars and between registers. The mistake is too obvious.)

The line shrinks; people who finish head back to the cafeteria to pack up their instruments. The other students move their fingers furiously across the keys, swaying their bodies as they blow air through their instrument in their mock-playing.

They’re all too advanced.

It’s all too much.

With shaking hands, he gathers all his music and the adjudicator sheet into a neat pile, careful to avoid creasing the paper. The other students give him a passing glance as he stands, but they go right back to practicing their sections as soon as he starts walking back in the direction of the cafeteria. He is meaningless. A tiny speck lost in a large pool of talent and skill.

A chance to prove his worth, lost in the sea of many others who are so much greater.

He understands.

He understands and yet the disappointment is raw and biting and–

He bumps into him for the first time.

“Woah!” The other child falters and stumbles back, eyes wide. “Sorry about that, didn’t see you there.”

A nod in response.

He looks at the sheet of music and the instrument, and a look of understanding flashes in his eyes. “Did you just finish auditioning?”

The instrument feels cold too cold, the paper too rough, the air too thin. “…I haven’t…”

“Oh shoot,” the child winces. “You were probably just going to the bathroom or something, right? Did I break your reed? I have some extras in my case if you need a replacement.”

It’s overwhelming. “I don’t really…”

“No, it’s fine, I’m the one who ran into you after all.” The other frowns and looks at the wood sitting on the mouthpiece. “There aren’t any obvious cracks, but you should probably try playing some warm-ups just to make sure it still works.”

(He’s given up. Just let him give up.

Concern is wasted on someone like him.)

The child kneels. For the first time, he notices the brown hair and the clean-cut clothes and the clarinet case now unclasped on the floor. Sheet music is placed at the side, pencil markings and highlights all over the pages.

Circled accidentals. Marked in crescendos and diminuendos. Beats per minute placed above inked tempo markings.

Skills light years ahead of his.

“Here you go!” The other looks up and hands him an unopened packet. “You probably already have some backups, but I’d feel kind of bad if I didn’t give you one after slamming into you.”

Traditional Vandoren, strength 3. He still uses Rico Royal 2½.

(A waste.)

The other child chuckles. “Hopefully this one works, right? You never know, sometimes you’ll buy a box and all of them end up horrible, but other times the reed gods are merciful to us.”

It doesn’t matter if the reed itself is good or not. He physically cannot use it. “Thank you, but it’s fine.” The packet is pushed back into the rightful owner’s hand. “You can keep it.”

“No really, take it.” It ends up in his hand again. Unworthy.  “If you don’t want to use it to play, maybe it’ll give you good luck during your audition.”

Worthless.

“I’m not auditioning.”

“...wait, what?”

The instrument chills his arms. “I’m not going to audition.”

“But…you’re here with your clarinet?” The other boy looks at his hands. “And you have the solo? If you’re not auditioning, then what are you doing?”

It’s hard to respond.

(What can he say?)

“I’m not good enough.” The words stumble out. “So there’s no point.”

The other child stares at him. His face betrays no emotion, his hand loosely clasped around the handle of his case. The instrument feels too cold.

“Picture it.”

…what?

“Along with your instrument, you’ve grown into a strong and skilled member of the ensemble. You’ve honed your technique and climb your way to the top. And eventually, you become the first chair player and the concertmaster of the whole band.”

…it’s impossible.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” He waves his hands. “As long as you keep practicing, who’s to say you won’t make it? Everyone starts somewhere, right?”

“That’s much too big of a leap though, isn’t it?”

“Have some more faith in yourself. And your instrument, too. A musician’s bond with their instrument is the most important relationship they can possibly have, after all.”

Can he call himself that? “I don’t really count as a musician though…”

“You try to make music, right? And you’re putting effort into getting better.” He nods. “How are you _not_ a musician?”

He has no rebuttal.

“Well, actually, there might be one thing missing.”

He tenses. “One thing…?”

“Does your clarinet have a name?”

“Um, it’s made by Selmer?”

He shakes his head. “No, no, that’s not what I mean. Did you give your clarinet its own name? Like, do you call it something?”

“Not…really?”

“Well, you should!” The other child grins. “Your instrument is like your child, so it’s got to have a name! Something like…hmmm…Blaster Blade!”

“Blaster…Blade…”

The child flushes. “Well, I mean, you don’t have to call it that. It’s just the first thing I thought of from a game I play, but you can name your instrument whatever you’d like–”

“No, it’s nice.” He smiles. “I like that name, Blaster Blade.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

(For the name, for the reed, for everything.)

“Well then!” The child beams. “It’s nice to meet you, Blaster Blade, and…?”

“Ah, I’m…”

 

 

Two days after the audition, the results are posted on the wall.

He doesn’t expect to get in. He knows the skills of the other students; he remembers hearing them play through the thin door, listening to multiple executions of the sixteenth note runs he still can’t do. He remembers his mistakes.

He isn’t looking at the results for himself.

On the second page, underneath the large bolded print of “Wind Ensemble” at the top, names are listed below each instrument section.

One day, he will try. One day, he will run to look at this page in anticipation for himself, to see if he played his instrument well enough to sit with the others. But until then, he will wait, and instead look for a different name on the page.

Kai Toshiki.

**Author's Note:**

> Why does this show always make me make bad decisions I wrote this in one night it's 6:30 I have two essays end me
> 
> Uh so, hi everyone....I fell back into this show way too late, but hey.......
> 
> This was really just a story about me projecting my love for band now that I'm not in it and I haven't played my clarinet in ages and I'm sad so yeah!!
> 
> Don't know if this will have more or not, I feel like band headcannons with them would be cute, but I haven't decided on what everyone else would play yet.....Kai also plays saxophone I'd just like everyone to know that (and he probably named it dragonic overlord because he's a big weenie)
> 
> ALSO since I'm tired and have no impulse control hit me up on tumblr if you wanna talk about cfv because I've fallen too deep and have no friends so sunbunsky.tumblr.com
> 
> Wait on second thought I just realized something should I tag this as ship or gen? Because technically nothing happens since it was supposed to mirror when they met......uhh if it bothers anyone I guess tell me and I'll change it? I dunno
> 
> AND ANOTHER THING because I feel kinda bad and I don't think I specified it really well in the story itself: if you're a fellow clarinetist or band player in general, please don't beat yourself up too hard. Other people do really cool stuff, and just because you can't do something yet doesn't mean you never will!! And even if you don't end up getting super good at that one thing, you'll always have other aspects of it you can do! Some people are good at articulations, other people are good at dynamics, it's all really subjective too so chances are you're doing something right and just keep getting at it!!! As long as you enjoy it, keep playing music!!!!!!!!
> 
> Specifically for clarinets now, I mentioned reeds mainly because of their differences in strength. Vandoren tends to be scaled higher than other reeds, or at least higher than Rico and Rico Royals. So a Vandoren 3 is about the same as a Rico 3 1/2. 
> 
> If you're playing one of the lower strengths? It really isn't reflective of your overall playing. I know people who played on 2 1/2 who beat people on 3, and people on 3 who beat people on 3 1/2 (scaled equally of course), it's just a matter of what your mouth can take. Keep playing, and the muscles will get stronger, and harder reeds generally mean easier high notes or so I've been told anyway so yeah!! You can look forward to getting out those really high notes and annoying your friends!!!


End file.
